


Strike Three

by zhengxing



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: M/M, Rockstar AU, popstar au, yixing is a bit of an asshole
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-26
Updated: 2018-05-26
Packaged: 2019-05-13 22:26:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14757440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zhengxing/pseuds/zhengxing
Summary: Zhang Yixing, rock star sensation, meets pop star Byun Baekhyun at one of his concerts. Though he claims the pop industry is pure garbage, perhaps he's willing to take his chance with Baekhyun.





	Strike Three

**Author's Note:**

> OKAY SO this was inspired by Yixing's recent magazine shoots WITH THIS PIC  
> https://twitter.com/zhengxings/status/999851340892397568  
> IM STILL SCREAMING
> 
> i like to think the rock band in this fic resembles a lot like arctic monkeys? perhaps ive been listening to their new album on repeat too much lol
> 
> all mistakes are my own!

 

//

 

Yixing’s lips are dry. He licks and picks at the skin, wetting the dry patches of his bottom lip before pressing a cigarette roughly between his lips. Taking out the lighter in his pocket, he carefully lights up the end of his cigarette, immediately inhaling the smoke from the other side. He breathes it in and expertly holds the smoke in before blowing a puff of smoke from his mouth, the smoke spiraling into the dead night.

 

“Smoking right before a show, Xing? You know we talked about this,” Jongdae calls out, coming from behind Yixing. Yixing doesn’t say anything, not at first at least. Instead, he takes another long intake of smoke into his dying lungs.

 

“We all know the crowd isn’t there to hear me sing, Mr. Lead Vocalist,” Yixing snorts, rolling his eyes. He stares at Jongdae for a couple of seconds before tossing the cigarette on the floor, stepping on it to distinguish it. “Let’s go then.”

 

Yixing puts his lighter in his pant’s pocket, though the outline seems a little obvious seeing as they dressed him up in the tightest black jeans possible. Yixing may not be in those overly produced boy groups that are popular these days, yet he seems to be wearing an equal amount of black skinny jeans as they are. What a joke.

 

At least the rest of his outfit isn’t nearly as bright as it would be if he were in a boy group. Instead, he wears a black dress T-shirt, the collar designed with beige cloth. To top the whole look off, the stylist put him in a sleeveless white leather jacket, the collar of the jacket a bright red. Yixing won’t lie, the second he laid eyes on himself in the mirror, he had to admit that he looked pretty hot. It helped to have the black sunglasses on him.

 

“We’re on in 5,” Chanyeol calls, signaling the rest of the members of Exo. Yixing sees Jongin nod all while he quickly tunes his bass guitar. Jongdae gives a thumbs up, his other hand helping him chug down a bottle of water before going on stage. As for Yixing, he stays idle staring straight at Chanyeol with an eyebrow raised. It is enough for Chanyeol to know that Yixing is also ready.

 

The show ends successfully, at least in Yixing’s eyes. Maybe he had messed up with one of the song’s notes, but given both he and Jongdae play the guitar, it was hardly noticeable to the crowd. By the end of the night, Yixing’s fingers were cramping, his feet so tired that they feel they’re stuck to the ground, his eyes heavy. Yet Yixing still walks backstage, at this point dragging his feet, making his way into their dressing room.

 

“That was sick!” Chanyeol exclaims, that big goofy smile on his face, his teeth almost too bliding for Yixing’s eyes. Yixing only nods, grabbing the nearest cloth and wiping the sweat trickling down his forehead down to his throat. It’s such a shame, really, since the make up artists had worked so hard to conceal the pimple by his cheek. Their work all gone to waste.

 

“Good work, guys,” Jongdae says, going to each of them one by one, shaking their hands to congratulate them. The four of them just sit, exhausted from their show, embracing the silence between them. Yixing lets himself close his eyes, catching his breath. 

 

After awhile, it becomes too quiet for Yixing. He stands up from his seat, his feet taking him to a familiar friend: the alcohol.

 

“Let’s pop a cold one, boys,” Yixing proposes, already opening a wine bottle to pour himself a drink. He watches as the wine drip down into the wine class, the way it bubbles up as Yixing continues pouring it down.

 

“I’ll pass,” Jongin says, his eyes still closed and his head reclined on the chair.

 

“I’ll take a beer,” Chanyeol says in contrast to Jongin. Yixing takes a drink of his wine, then grabbing a bottle of beer for Chanyeol.

 

“I’ll also pass,” Jongdae says, though his eyes are trained intently on his phone. Yixing rolls his eyes, but passes the beer to Chanyeol. “Guys…”

 

At this, Yixing peeks at Jongdae once more. The younger man has his eyes wide at the screen in front of him. “Byun Baekhyun is here. He saw us perform.”

 

“Who’s Baekhyun?” Yixing asks, taking one long sip from his wine glass, finishing the remaining liquid. Luckily he brought the wine bottle with him. 

 

“Seriously? Who’s Baekhyun?” Jongdae says exasperated. Yixing glares at him, as if Baekhyun is someone Yixing should know. If he was important enough, then surely Yixing would recognize the name.

 

“Woah, Baekhyun is so cool,” Chanyeol gasps out, his already huge eyes widening even bigger. “I wish I could dance like him!”

 

“Again, who’s Baekhyun?” Yixing asks, though his tone is laced with annoyance since no one has bothered to answer his question. 

 

Jongdae rolls his eyes. “Byun Baekhyun, pop sensation! His songs are all over the radio, come on, Xing.”

 

Yixing snorts, crossing his arms. “I don’t listen to pop garbage, you know that.”

 

“Sometimes I think you take this whole rockstar thing too seriously,” Jongdae says, irritated by Yixing. Take Chanyeol for example, despite being in a rock band, the gangly man is smiling giant outside of a stage setting. The whole bad boy rockstar persona doesn’t have to take over their lives.

 

“Whatever,” Yixing says, closing his eyes. He’s done with this stupid conversation about some stupid pop idol. Yixing wants nothing to do with it.

 

So he stands up from his seat, grabbing his jacket before taking off. None of his band members call out for him, but Yixing couldn’t care less. They’re probably equally annoyed by him as he is of them.

 

He pulls out his pack of cigarettes once more, taking out the lighter as well. He knows it’s bad to smoke, really he’s gotten the lecture from Jongdae for 5 years, yet he always comes back to that damned pack. Once he inhales the smoke, he feels peace inside. 

 

He texts his manager to come pick him up, telling him he’ll be waiting a little away from the stadium. He knows it’s not very smart of him to be waiting outside like this, no bodyguard in sight, but at the same time Yixing likes living a little dangerously. Besides, it’s so dark that even the light from the moon can’t rule out his identity to the empty alley he stands in.

 

He sticks the cigarette into his mouth, his teeth slightly digging on the end. Taking his lighter, he cups it into his hand as he lights it at the other end of the cigarette, putting it away once it’s lighted enough.

 

Yixing holds it in his mouth for a bit as he puts away his lighter, then his hand takes the cigarette in between his index and middle fingers, taking it out, and blows the puff of smoke inside his mouth into the chilly air. 

 

“That’s not very healthy,” a voice behind him calls, his voice teasing. Yixing turns his head slightly, finding a man behind him not that much shorter than him. He’s grinning at him, the ends of his mouth making his smile resemble a rectangle.

 

“Can I help you?” Yixing asks rudely, his tone wary of the stranger’s sudden interest in his bad habit of smoking. 

 

“Okay, first smoking, now rude attitude? That’s two strikes already,” the stranger says, daring to step a little closer to Yixing. Now Yixing has turned his whole body to face the smirking stranger, not knowing exactly when he did so.

 

“Two strikes for what?” Yixing asks, leaning his face down closer to the stranger’s, yet the stranger doesn’t even flinch. If anything, the smirk grows, taunting Yixing.

 

“To getting in my pants. So what do you say, Mr. Rockstar?” the stranger proposes. Yixing gives a quick look down and up the stranger, finding that the tight black jeans hug the stranger’s thighs so deliciously, the way his T-shirt shows off the soft curves of his torso, and finally, the damned birthmark that rests atop the stranger’s tempting pink lips.

 

“Strike one,” Yixing says, the end of his lips tilting. The stranger raises an eyebrow at him, the curiosity on his face obvious.

 

“What?”

 

“You haven’t told me your name,” Yixing says smoothly, watching as the stranger’s face contorts into a grimace.

 

“You have to do better than that,” he says. “And my name is Baekhyun. Pleasure to meet you.”

 

Yixing stares at the stranger for a couple of moments before it finally dawns to him: this is the popstar Jongdae was talking about. Sure, there could be many Baekhyun’s out there, but seeing as this so called pop star Baekhyun attended their concert, it is probable this is the same guy, right? Besides, there’s something familiar about his face that Yixing has no doubts that he’s seen this face on advertisements before.

 

Yixing didn’t realize that his shoulders had gotten tense. He shakes his shoulders a bit, leaning on his side.

 

“Ah, you’re that popstar then, yeah?” he asks, his voice absent of any interest he had in Baekhyun before finding out his identity.

 

“Yep,” Baekhyun starts, though his eyes are trying carefully to read Yixing’s body language. “Though you don’t seem to be too happy to hear that, am I right?”

 

Yixing chuckles, nodding his head without shame. “Yeah, I’m not really into this whole pop thing. I think it’s a little too over produced and, I don’t know, loud? Happy? Bubbly?”

 

“Only someone who doesn’t actually bothering to listen to pop music would say that. Typical,” Baekhyun responds, defensive. “God, I don’t know why I even bothered. I should have known you’d be some asshat rock artists that are so up their ass that they think they’re superior to pop singers.”

 

“Oh, don’t be like that,” Yixing says, though he does like seeing Baekhyun get worked up. The way he glares at Yixing, the fervor in his eyes. It is exhilarating. “I respect you as an artist, I just can’t listen to that myself.”

 

“Whatever,” Baekhyun says, crossing his arms. “You know that overproduced pop trash is actually all written by me, right? Not everyone who writes their own songs have to make it rock like you.”

 

“Okay, so I got you all wrong,” Yixing says, admitting defeat. He can tell that Baekhyun is a feisty one, someone who won’t let something go until they win. Yixing won’t be declaring Baekhyun the winner just yet, though. “Is that a strike three?”

 

Baekhyun still looks fiery from annoyance, yet the everpresent smirk is still playing on his lips. “Maybe so. That just means I’ll have to punish you for that, right?”

 

“It’s cute how you think you’ll be the one punishing,” Yixing whispers, his lips dangerously close to Baekhyun’s. 

 

It’s a little after Yixing’s manager arrives, after Yixing carefully guides Baekhyun into the van while making sure no eyes are watching then, that Yixing has Baekhyun pressed against the wall of his bedroom.

 

Yixing nips at the skin on Baekhyun’s neck, ravishing the pure pale skin that before Yixing’s tainting had been unmarked. Yixing is rutting his hips, meeting Baekhyun’s own, hitting their hard ons through the fabric of their jeans, the friction tingling through Yixing’s veins.

 

Baekhyun moans as Yixing continues licking down his neck and onto his chest, Yixing’s tongue swirling around the hardness of Baekhyun’s collarbone. 

 

“Fuck me against the wall,” Baekhyun gasps out as Yixing continues thrusting his clothed cock into Baekhyun’s thighs. Yixing grunts in approval, already taking off the jacket from his shoulders, then messily unbuttoning his shirt. 

 

He starts kissing at Baekhyun’s lips again, his fingers going south, fumbling with Baekhyun’s black skinny jeans. Once he’s gotten them undone, he slowly pulls them down, Baekhyun taking his legs out one by one, kicking the pants out of the way.

 

Baekhyun’s T-shirt is next to go, with one pull up, the shirt is thrown to the ever growing pile by Yixing’s bed. Finally, Yixing pulls down his own jeans, stepping out of his pants. Baekhyun eyes Yixing’s naked body, one of his long fingers tracing the various tattoos littered across Yixing’s chest and arms. 

 

Yixing’s hands make it down to Baekhyun’s ass, his curious hands grabbing at the plump skin, squeezing the mounds, massaging them, spreading them apart. Baekhyun lets out soft gasps as Yixing does this, spurring him to go on further.

 

“Wet them,” Yixing orders, sticking his fingers into Baekhyun’s mouth. Baekhyun’s dark eyes stare back at Yixing’s as his tongue expertly swirls around Yixing’s fingers, his saliva coating them so much that they’re slightly dripping.

 

Yixing doesn’t wait in sticking a finger into Baekhyun’s ready asshole, the younger a moaning mess as Yixing pumps the one finger inside of him. Yixing takes his time prepping Baekhyun, making sure that he’s thoroughly stretching him before sticking his tip in.

 

It’s wet and warm once Yixing enters Baekhyun, but most of all it is tight. Yixing grunts get mixed in with Baekhyun’s moans, the two deep in pleasure. Once Yixing gives an experimental thrust into Baekhyun, every thrust afterwards becomes wilder, stronger, even more pleasurable.

 

Yixing grabs Baekhyun by his thighs, pulling his weight up. Baekhyun is quick to wrap his legs around Yixing’s waist, being careful to keep Yixing’s hard on inside of Baekhyun.

 

Yixing starts snapping his hips once more, pumping inside of Baekhyun erratically, Baekhyun helping by bouncing his body down on Yixing’s dick. From this position, Yixing enters Baekhyun so deeply, hitting all the right spots that have Baekhyun crying out in absolute pleasure.

 

“Fuck,” Baekhyun curses after Yixing hits his prostate particularly hard, biting down on Yixing’s shoulders. Yixing gasps out, almost breathless at the sensation. Call him a masochist, but Yixing really does find pleasure in feeling pain, even as small as a bite on his shoulder, though Baekhyun’s teeth have proven to be quite sharp.

 

Yixing only has to snap his hips a couple of more times before he’s shooting his cum inside of Baekhyun, crying out his name in broken sobs. Baekhyun continues bouncing on Yixing’s dick until he himself reaches his high, white spurts hitting both of their chests, and even on Yixing’s neck.

 

Even though his arms are tired and weak, Yixing makes sure to lower Baekhyun to the ground carefully, the two embracing themselves against the wall, even if they’re a sweaty and sticky mess, the two breathing heavily.

 

“Strike two if you don’t give me your number,” Yixing lazy mumbles into Baekhyun’s neck making the popstar laugh.

 

“Sure thing, rock star.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> phew i havent written baekxing in ages. thanks for reading ^^


End file.
